These petty exploits had made merely the work of our hero’s ’prentice hand; the time was now come for him to be dubbed a knight, presented on the occasion with a marvellous sword called “Morglay,” and the best horse in the world, by name “Arundel.” Ermyn had soon need of a peerless champion. Bradmond, King of Damascus, was demanding Josyan’s hand, with threats to lay waste the land if his suit were refused; but a lad of mettle like Bevis, of course, found no difficulty in laying low that proud Paynim and all his host. Josyan was so lost in admiration of such prowess, that she proposed to her Christian knight after a somewhat unmaidenly fashion; but Bevis would give her no encouragement till, for his sake, she professed herself ready to renounce the Moslem faith. But when the king heard how his daughter was being converted to Christianity, his patience came to an end. Not daring to use open violence against the invincible youth, he sent him on an embassy to King Bradmond, his late adversary, who at the point of Bevis’ sword had lately sworn to be Ermyn’s vassal, and was now commanded, on his allegiance, to secure the bearer of the sealed letter which Bevis carried to his own destruction. The author of _Hamlet_ may have taken another hint from this incident. But our impetuous knight needed no treacherous credentials to get him into trouble. At Damascus he found a crowd of Saracens worshipping an idol, which his sound principles moved him to knock over into the mud with proper contempt: the Mohammedans, whatever their doctrinal shortcomings might be, were, as a matter of fact, strongly set against idolatry, but Christian minstrels allowed themselves a poetical license on such points. King Bradmond and all his men, backed by the fanatical population of Damascus, were odds too great even for a pious hero. Bevis, fairly overpowered for once, was thrown into a dungeon with two ravenous dragons to keep him company. It was only a matter of some twenty-four hours’ combat for him to kill the dragons with the butt-end of a staff that came to his hand; but hunger proved a sorer enemy. Now we have the two most familiar lines of this long poem, as quoted in _King Lear_-- Rats and mice and such small deer, Were his meat for seven long year.